


You Won't Miss Me In The Morning

by teacuphuman



Series: 2016 Inception Kink Bingo [7]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Tentacles, but no actual tentacles, non-con memory alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/pseuds/teacuphuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur just can't walk away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Won't Miss Me In The Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tentacles square on my Inception Kink Bingo card. 
> 
> This one did not turn out at all like I'd planned, but I'm still really happy with it. I plan to write a second chapter with actual tentacle porn in it once my bingo card is complete.

Arthur wipes his hand on his pant leg. His palms won’t stop sweating and his collar is like a noose at his throat. He knows how this is going to end, but he can’t help but be nervous. Every time with Eames feels like the first time.

 

It started two years ago at a party. Arthur’s roommate’s boyfriend’s sister was throwing an end of the year get together, and Ari had sat on Arthur’s foot, arms and legs wrapped around him, until he agreed to go along. One last hurrah before they graduated and never looked back.

 

So Arthur had gone. And Arthur had met Eames. Bolstered by three shots of tequila and two thirds of a beer, Arthur had wandered past Eames’ line of sight and hoped to get noticed. He got better than that when Eames walked away from the conversation he’d been having, pushing past the guy speaking, to step into Arthur’s path across the living room. 

 

Having Eames look at him was everything Arthur had wanted it to be and more. His skin flushed under that bright gaze, his stomach fluttering madly when Eames smiled and said hello. Arthur swears he felt the static in the air between them in that moment, kinetic and charged and waiting to spark. 

 

That first meeting, that first night, the few precious hours Arthur caught a glimpse of what being with Eames could be like, had become an addiction. Arthur didn’t know it at the time, but later that night he’d make the biggest mistake of his life.

 

The door of the cafe squeaks, just like it has the last four times Arthur’s opened it. He catches Eames’ wince a second before he looks up and sees Arthur. A smile breaks out across his face, just like every time before. It’s a bright smile, and honest one, and Arthur can’t help but respond in kind.

 

“Well, hello there.” Eames leans on the counter.

 

“Hi,” Arthur says, breathless already.

 

“Haven’t seen you in here before.” 

 

The girl stocking the pastry case snorts. “You’re kidding me, right?”

 

Eames frowns, looking over at her. “What?”

 

“Seriously? Is this like, some kind of game you two play? Because I want no part in your kinky adventures.” She rolls her eyes and slides through the door to the back.

 

Eames turns back to Arthur, face aflame. “I am so sorry about that, I have no idea what she’s been smoking.”

 

Arthur tries to relax his smile, but her guess is too close to the truth to brush away. It is like a game, only Eames has no idea he’s been playing.

 

“It’s fine, I have one of those faces. Um, can I get a large americano, please?”

 

“Decaf or regular?” Eames pulls a cup from the stack and scribbles on it.

 

“Regular.”

 

“You sure? It’s almost eleven.” Eames raises an eyebrow.

 

“I’m sure.” Arthur sighs, hating the way he loves how Eames’ eyes never leave him for long. This feeling he gets with Eames, the aggressive pull toward him, it never dwindles, no matter how many times Arthur reenacts their first meeting. And he knows it’s wrong, he does. It’s sick, and twisted, and it’s not fair to either of them, but he can’t help it, he’s an addict.

 

“Long night ahead of you?” 

 

Arthur takes a moment to let his eyes wander over Eames’ sturdy frame. “If I’m lucky.”

 

His forwardness throws Eames, but only for a moment, then he’s leaning over the counter again, grinning. “What name shall I put on the cup?”

 

“Arthur.”

 

“Hmm, Arrthurr. I’ll have to remember that.” Eames winks and moves to the machines to make Arthur’s coffee.

 

“I won’t let you forget.” Arthur says, unable to keep the sadness from his tone. He plasters on a smile when Eames looks up, making sure his dimples are on display. When Eames hands Arthur his cup it says  _ Darling _ with Eames’ number written underneath.

 

Arthur sits at a corner table to watch Eames and his coworker getting ready to close. The girl keeps looking over at him and frowning, and if this were any other night, he’d wait for Eames outside. It won’t be hard to approach him after work, to convince him to come home with Arthur. It never is. It’s not something Eames makes a habit of doing, and Arthur knows this because he’s had two years of studying the man to find out, but there’s something about Arthur that appeals to Eames. It was scary at first, how quickly they’d connected. Their conversation easy and spirited, neither afraid to disagree or argue. It should have been no surprise that they’d fallen into bed together that night, or any night after that.

 

By the time Eames locks the cafe door behind him, Arthur’s waiting. Eames startles at first, but his wary frown quickly turns to a grin when Arthur says hello. Arthur’s not sure if it has something to do with what he is, or if Eames would react to him this way if he were human, but a part of him wishes it wasn’t always this easy.

 

Arthur leads Eames to his apartment, just like he has every time before. There’s relief inside him, knowing they won’t do this again, but mostly he’s scared. Scared of seeing Eames upset. Of being faced with the hurt he’s caused this amazing man, and knowing it’s his own selfishness that’s done it.

 

Eames kisses him the moment Arthur closes the door. He big, and pliant, and for a few minutes Arthur loses himself in the rush of desire he can taste on the other man’s tongue. When Eames’ hand sneaks underneath Arthur’s shirt, he take a step back, pressing his head to Eames’ shoulder and apologizing.

 

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Arthur whispers, eyes closed tight.

 

“Right, I guess we should have that conversation before we get ahead of ourselves.” Eames laughs and Arthur focuses on the sound, forging it into his memory as best he can.

 

Arthur sits in the armchair, forcing Eames to take the couch. “The woman you work with,”

 

“Jane.” Eames supplies.

 

“Yeah, Jane. She wasn’t wrong about me having been in before.”

 

“It’s not a crime to frequent a cafe, Arthur.” Eames is still smiling, looking at Arthur like he’s being adorable when really, it’s all he can do not to get up and run.

 

“No, it’s not like that. You and I, we’ve met before. Several times, actually.”

 

Eames’ brow furrows, his smile slipping a little. “Have we? I’m certain I’d have remembered. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re bloody gorgeous. Just my type, too. Lucky you.”

 

Arthur laughs, a little choked, but mostly amused. “God, you just don’t quit, do you?”

 

“Never, my stamina is legendary.” Eames reaches forward to brush his hand up Arthur’s thigh, but Arthur moves out of reach.

 

“Look, if I got this all wrong you just need to tell me. I thought we were on the same page, but we don’t have to do anything.” Eames says seriously.

 

Arthur drops his head into his hands and groans. He needs to get it out. Rip the bandaid off and move on. Only he knows he won’t, not really. He’s never experienced someone like Eames before and he’s never going to again. Arthur will pine for this man for the rest of his life, shackled to the knowledge that he screwed up and Eames hates him.

 

Arthur takes a deep breath and looks Eames in the eye. “I need to say some things, and I need you to listen. No matter how you react to them, will you please allow me finish?”

 

Eames nods, settling against the cushions with a worried look on his face.

 

“Right, okay. Here it goes,” Arthur clears his throat, staring hard at the woodgrain of the coffee table. “I met you two years ago at a house party. I saw you, and I, I wanted you. Luckily you wanted me too, and you came home with me. We had sex on that couch, and it was the best night of my life up until that point.”

 

He hears Eames make a distressed sound and he sneaks a quick glance. Eames is staring at the couch, confused look on his face, like he feels guilty for not remembering.

 

“Don’t worry, there’s a reason you don’t remember, and I’ll get to that. Anyway, that night, I showed you something. About myself, that I’ve never showed anyone before. God, you just took it all in stride. So beautifully. You were like nothing I’d ever imagined, Eames, you really were. I can’t believe, well, anyway. The next morning I panicked a little. See, I’m not exactly supposed to show anyone what I showed you, and I was scared. I took you out for breakfast. And then I erased any trace of me from your memory.”

 

“ _ You what? _ ” Eames shouts, rising from the couch.

 

“Please, just let me finish, let me explain.” Arthur pleads up at him.

 

Eames takes a breath, nostrils flaring, but he sits back down.

 

“Notice how you didn’t even question how I could do that? You just knew it was true. You’re subconscious remembers me, even if your conscious mind doesn’t. That’s why you felt so drawn to me tonight. Why you came with me so easily.”

 

Eames leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, his breathing forced into an even pattern. He’s rocking a little so Arthur hurries on.

 

“I saw you again, about three months after that, at the cafe. I tried to leave before you noticed me, but the moment you laid eyes on me, God, it was like the first time all over again, just like it was tonight. It’s an immediate connection with us, every time, and I don’t know what that means, but when I saw you again, saw that the attraction was still there, I remembered what it was like to be with you and I couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t, I didn’t drug you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I happened almost exactly like it did tonight. There’s a pull so strong it’s hard to resist, right?”

 

Eames nods, hands clasped so tight one of his knuckles pops.

 

“And after the first time, I didn’t move on like I thought I would. I thought about you everyday. I knew little more than your name, so it was easier to convince myself not to look for you, but I never stopped wanting you. I never do, after.”

 

Eames’ head snaps up to glare at Arthur. “What does that mean, ‘after’?”

 

Arthur swallows nervously. “I erased your memory after the second time, too. And all the times after that.”

“Jesus,” Eames swears, cradling his head in his hands. “How many times were there?”

 

“This is the seventh time we’ve met.”

 

Eames moans, lurching off the couch and towards the door. Arthur sprints to the door, blocking his path.

 

“Please, please just let me finish.” Arthur pleads.

 

“Get out of my way.” Eames grounds out, eyes jumping between Arthur and the door.

 

“I need to tell you-”

 

“You need? YOU NEED?” Eames shouts, looking like he wants to hit Arthur. “I don’t give a fuck what you need! What about what I need? Do I get a say in any of this? Have I ever? Two bloody years, Arthur! Did I want any of it?”

 

Arthur steps back, shocked. “Of course, Eames, I would never-”

 

“Never what, hmm?” Eames stalks forward, pushing Arthur back, crowding him against the door. It’s a fractured parody of their fourth time, and it makes Arthur want to weep. 

 

“I’d never do anything without your consent.” He whispers.

 

“Like erasing my memory?”

 

“That was for your protection!” 

 

“Maybe the first time. But what about all the times after that, Arthur? Whose protection were those for?” Eames’ voice has gone quiet and eerily calm.

 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! I was wrong, and I get that. I knew it was wrong then and I did it anyway. I don’t expect forgiveness, but please, let me finish.” Arthur begs.

 

“Do you think I’d have been willing all those other times, if I knew about the times before?” Eames asks and it feels like a ball of ice drops into Arthur’s stomach. “Did you even think about that?”

 

Arthur can’t speak. He’s frozen in place while Eames stares daggers at him.

 

“Finish your damn confession so I can get out of here. Or were you planning to erase my memory after this as well?”

 

Arthur shakes his head, croaking out a no. Eames goes to the window, leaning against the frame, far from Arthur’s reach when he returns to the chair.

 

“The thing that I show you, when we’re together. I’m not supposed to. Normally I can control it, have controlled, it up until then. There’s just something about being with you that drops my guard. I can’t hide from you, Eames, and that terrifies me. My entire existence relies on me staying hidden.”

 

Eames snorts. “Why, are you an alien?”

 

Arthur bows his head, gripping his hands together. “Not exactly.”

 

Eames straightens. “What does that mean?”

 

“I was born here. My kind are of the earth, we’re just...other.”

 

“And your big secret, it’s not the memory erasing thing?”

 

“Well, that’s not exactly a small secret, really.” Arthur can’t help but smile and Eames almost returns it before he catches himself and scowls.

 

“So there are more of you out there, doing this to people?”

 

Arthur shakes his head. “No, no, this is. It’s forbidden. It’s not something I’ve ever heard of before. The memory thing, it’s only to be used to protect ourselves. I’ve never found an instance where one of my kind was unable to hide themselves from their partner. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

 

Eames is quiet for a moment, then, “Is that what we were? Partners?”

 

“I have pictures,” Arthur scrambles to pull his phone out of his pocket. “You made me take them, well, after.”

 

Eames takes the phone, careful not to touch Arthur’s fingers. He scrolls through the photos, his face growing harder and more sad with each swipe of his thumb.

 

“There aren’t any on my phone. Did you erase those, too?” He sniffs.

 

“You didn’t take any. You said you didn’t need them because you knew you’d never forget me,” Arthur’s voice cracks and the last word comes out as a sob. “God, Eames, I’m so sorry.”

 

He can feel the tears flowing hot and quick over his cheeks, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth to muffle the wretched sounds trying to climb out. Eames gives him a moment to compose himself before he sets the phone on the coffee table and sits on the couch.

 

“We look happy.”

 

“We were.” Arthur says.

 

“How long? Was it just the one night every time, or did you let me have that happiness a little longer every now and then?”

 

“The longest was two weeks. I had to leave when you wanted to know why I didn’t want to meet your friends. I couldn’t take your memories and then have them asking about me. I didn’t want to put them in danger, too.”

 

Eames nods, running this thumbnail over his bottom lip. “What do you want, Arthur? Why tell me all of this? Why not just walk away?”

 

“I can’t. I can’t walk away from you. Not unless I know there’s no chance of being with you again. If I erase your memory I’ll always know there’s a way back. If you hate me, I’ll know there’s not.”

 

“You’re selfish to the end, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur admits and Eames smiles.

 

“And I take it well, this secret of yours?”

 

“Yes,” Arthur says wistfully. “You take it beautifully. You ask so many fucking questions, every time, but you’re practically giddy with wonder. It’s gorgeous.”

 

Eames clears his throat, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Right then, let’s have it.”

 

“What?” Arthur startles.

 

“What’s your secret? You can’t think I’d let you walk away without telling me. Again.”

 

“It’s not. I can’t. Um.” Arthur’s flustered. He’s only ever shown Eames while they were intimate. This meeting has a very different atmosphere. He’s not even sure he can reveal himself under pressure.

 

“Fine, then give me back my memories.”

 

“What?” he chokes out.

 

“They’re mine. You stole them. I want them back. That way you don’t have to explain, I’ll just know, right?” Eames says.

 

“Well, yes, but-”

 

“But what? You want me to hate you. So show me everything you took from me.” Eames’ voice is hard, but Arthur knows him well enough by now to hear the hurt hidden underneath.

 

“I can do it, but it won’t be easy. Or comfortable. It’s intense.”

 

“Arthur, nothing beyond the first few minutes of this has been easy or comfortable. Give me back my memories.”

 

“Okay,” Arthur whispers. “I’ll have to.” He motions at the seat next to Eames.

 

“Fine.”

 

It’s nice, Arthur thinks. The way Eames relaxes under his touch. Like muscle memory not even Arthur’s best efforts can erase. He places his hands on either side of Eames’ neck, pressing his middle and index fingers against the nape of his neck. Eames flinches a little at the pressure, but holds still. Arthur looks into his eyes and let’s go. 

 

Eames’ eyes widen when the first memories hit, the softness Arthur sees there taking him back to the house party. The way Eames had hurried across the room, as if pulled by some unseen force. The way he’d gasped the first time Arthur had touched him. Arthur relives each memory, watching along with Eames as his mind reabsorbs them. The shock and amazement at Arthur’s true form, the contentment of waking up next to each other, the laughter they shared over meals, and the raw ache at the emptiness that descended every time Arthur made himself walk away. Arthur relives it all, watching tears roll fall from Eames’ eyes. He pulls away as the memories fade, having sorted themselves back into Eames’ mind.

 

Arthur stands on shaky legs and moves back to the chair. 

 

Eames is staring at him, eyes a little wild. “You’re a bloody octopus.”

 

It startles a laugh out of Arthur, just like Eames wanted it to. He can do that again, he remembers how.

 

“Darling,” Eames says.

 

“Don’t. Please don’t.” Arthur sighs, weakened from the exchange and more tired than he can ever remember being.

 

“Darling,” Eames repeats and Arthur looks up. “You’re in love with me.”

 

Arthur frowns. “Of course I am. Do you think I would put us through this if I weren’t? I had to keep you safe, Eames. That was all that mattered.”

 

“I know,” Eames pauses, looking startled at the admission. “I know that now. I get it. But you never told me.”

 

Arthur smiles ruefully. “I did. Just not in ways you would understand.”

 

“You’re an idiot.” Eames tells him and Arthur nods.

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you? Do you really?”

 

“Feel free to tell me again if you must.” Arthur closes his eyes, exhausted. 

 

He hears Eames move, but he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until large hands cup his face. Arthur’s eyes snap open and Eames’ face is so close he’s out of focus.

 

“I plan to.” Eames kisses him, warm and soft, his slick tongue pressing into Arthur’s mouth, waking up his senses. Just as Arthur begins to respond, Eames pulls back. 

 

“Promise me you won’t walk away again.” Eames implores.

 

“I have to keep you safe.” Arthur argues.

 

“This is where I’m safe,” Eames presses two fingers to Arthur’s chest. “Right here.”

 

“But-”

 

“No,” Eames says sharply. “You don’t get to decide for me anymore. This is my life, and I chose who I love. If I want to stay with you until we’re found out, or we die of old age, then I get to do that. The next time you walk away it had better be because you don’t love me anymore.”

 

“That will never happen.” Arthur swears.

 

“Good. Now promise me.” Eames presses his forehead to Arthur’s.

 

“I promise.” Arthur whispers.

 

“Excellent. Now, I’m going to need a refresher course on those tentacles of yours. Some of those memories were a bit fuzzy.”

 

Arthur laughs, breathy and lighter than he’s felt in two years.


End file.
